Come Home To Me
by Precious Subordinate
Summary: When Milo suffers a mysterious illness, Kida takes it upon herself to search out the answers. Milo feels that the God's are punishing him. Kida feels like she's being blessed. [Written for the "100 Year Anniversary"]


Kida kept her distance at first. It was obvious by her husband's sudden refusal to be near her that something had changed in his mind. She queried with his normal guards, but they never betrayed so much as an inkling of an answer. Had he grown tired of her? Milo was not hard to figure out, she had many years to discover his thoughts and how his mind worked, so the sudden action startled her. He would not come to bed, he would not come to dinner, he would not even as much as look at her. He would sit in his library, hunched over scrolls and books, and ignore her all day long.

This behavior angered her. She was a queen and she _always _got what she wanted. But for him to ignore her was of great concern. Her mind reeled with possible answers as to why. He had mentioned on multiple occasions that he wanted to go home, to the surface world, which led her to believe that after ten years of being with her, he had grown to love someone else. That was not fair to her, because she would _never _love someone as much as she loved him, and this much she had been sure of since the first day they met.

And now she strode with purpose through the marbled halls of the kingdom, looking for her lover to confront him. She had many things to say to him; most in her language. If he was indeed falling out of love with her, she had far too many words for him, and none of them were of the _kind _variety. She came to a stop by the door to the library, seeing a light flickering against the wall. Her blue eyes scanned for her husband and finally landed on the lanky man carrying a stack of books toward his desk. He _seemed _okay.

"Milo!"

Startled, the books fell to the floor and he scrambled to pick them up. "Ki-Kida." He carefully started to stack the books, making sure to take a precarious amount of time that they were still in the order he chose them in. His honey brown eyes looked to his wife and a frown crossed his features. That look was not that of a woman who was simply looking to pass time. She was on a mission. The only time he had _ever _seen that look, in ten years, was with Rourk. His beloved wife viewed him as Rourk. A pang of fear struck his heart and he quickly adjusted his glasses, deserting the books. "Kida…"

Arms folded at her chest, she threw her hip out in a curve like she tended to do in that sassy way. Her platinum hair swayed with each movement and the snarl that escaped her parted lips made him jump. "You have effectively avoided me for two weeks now, Milo! Do you grow ill of my presence?"

Though he couldn't deny her temper often intimidated him, he took a hesitant step back. There was ample room between him and the door where she had taken up her perch, but he wasn't moving forward – towards her – he was moving away from her. A hesitant sound escaped his lips and he dragged his hand through his mess of hair. "It's not you, Kida, it's me."

"That is what I _just_ _said_!" She replied in anger. "You have grown ill of me!"

"No!" Milo corrected quickly, flailing his arms about in front of him. "No, it's…it's not that. I…have grown ill, but not of you. Just that, simply…_ill._"

"What do you mean by _just that_?" She inquired, arms falling to her side. She moved to talk to him but he took another step back, ignoring her presence. Brown eyes fell to the floor and he shook his head. "Milo, why do you not let me near you?"

"I'm contagious, Kida. If I come near you, I could kill your entire civilization. I can't do that to you." This time, he looked up at her with worry in his eyes. "Please forgive me, I do love you, I just didn't know how to tell you."

"What does this word mean? _Contagious_ – what does it mean?" She had never used it in context before; it had never been one that crossed the lips of her people because the crystal kept everyone alive and healed them. The word felt salty on her tongue. Was he planning to eradicate her species? No, he had said _I can't do that to you_, which implied he was fearful of whatever was happening. "Milo…"

"It means I'm severely ill, and I can spread it very easily to your people if we aren't careful. I thought…since only the elders and leaders had access to this room, it might be best to hide away somewhere it can't be spread as easily." Quiet contemplation passed his eyes as he watched his wife's expression change from that of snarling anger, to sympathy. She moved to come forward again, and he held up his hands. "No! Kida…please just trust me, you can't come near me."

"Milo, there is nothing you can possess that our crystal and the Gods cannot heal. Please, let me look at you." In all honesty, she missed his touch, and wondered if she would ever feel it again. He spoke as if he was dying, and the idea brought turmoil to her mind. His cough brought her back to her senses. He moved quickly and efficiently, covering his mouth with a piece of cloth that was tinged red from prolonged use. He continued coughing, starting to wheeze. At first, she didn't know what to do and just stood in shock. No man had ever been sick in Atlantis before.

His small frame had grown more emaciated, something she had just now noticed. He moved with a tremble, his body growing weak with each hack. They shook his whole body, rattling his teeth. He fell to his knees, dropping his hands to his sides, still holding the cloth close to his body. With little reaction and protest, he allowed Kida to take the cloth from his hand and examine it. They were married, and he had been sick for some time, it was probably more likely she already had his infection. It was already at least 25% likely she was infected.

Kida knelt beside him, her hands gently touching his shoulders. She reached out an unsteady palm to take the cloth and examine it. "Milo…this is blood."

"Yes," He began very quietly. His voice ached, he didn't want to speak, but she wanted answers. He looked to her with fear in his eyes, and that solidified it for her. She was going to help him. "Kida, if I'm right about what I have…"

She touched his hand, shaking her head. "You will not die, Milo. The Gods would not take you away from me so soon." A small, sympathetic smile tinged at the corner of her lips, but he wasn't making any reaction. His eyes continued to stare at her, unmoving. He was studying her; memorizing her grace in this moment. "Milo, get some rest."

"Kida, your people-"

"-will be fine." She continued, cutting him off. "The Gods would not allow for anything to befall us. It is their job to protect us, remember, Milo? Do not be afraid." Putting a hand under his arm, she slowly rose to her feet. He wavered against her body, and she kept a tight grip on him as if a soldier wounded in battle. "We will not worry the men with such trivial things, Milo."

He nodded weakly and started coughing again. Grabbing the cloth from her hand, he put it to his mouth and closed his eyes. He couldn't risk making her sick; this disease could very well wipe out her entire culture. He had already been single-handedly responsible for the death of her father; he couldn't kill her culture as well. Not after all the work they had done to preserve it. "Kida," She looked to him, hearing his weak protests. He went to speak, but all he managed to say was "I-" before his entire world faded to darkness.

When he awoke again, Kida was sitting beside the bed, her hand resting against his cheek. He could feel the cool sweat dripping down his face, his glasses were gone. Everything was just a blur by now. He had gone through all this trouble to protect her, and her stubbornness wouldn't let him. He groaned and tried to sit up, but she kept a firm hand against his chest.

"Please stay resting, Milo."

"Kida, I – " He sighed and looked down at the sheets covering his nearly-naked form. He must have had a fever, and she felt this was the best way to help him through it. The damp cloth against his forehead felt welcoming, and he quickly reached out to wrap his hand around her wrist. "I may not get a chance to say it again."

"You will have plenty of chances to lecture me, Milo. Do not concern yourself with your wellbeing. We have sent for a shaman to look at you." Her hand calmly wiped the sweat from his brow. "You will be okay, Milo. The shaman will heal you."

His grip on her wrist tightened. "A shaman can't _cure me_, Kida. Your crystals can't cure me. The Gods don't have mercy and I'm _dying._"

Her hand ceased its movement, she slithered it away from his grip and dropped it into her lap. "I know." The words were hollow, as if she had died inside. She had watched her father die, and now she was watching her beloved pass before her eyes. The crystal was doing nothing more than keeping him alive, but he was in pain – constant pain. "I know, Milo."

"Kida," Milo sat up, his hand reaching out to touch hers again but she pulled away. "Kida, please, if this has been dormant the whole time I was here, how many other people did I infect?"

"Milo, you have chastised our Gods and they are unhappy with you. They are punishing you!"

In his heart, he wanted to say that there was no such thing as Gods, but he'd witnessed firsthand how wrong he would be in that assumption. His voice was just barely above a whisper, equated to a squeak of a mouse. "Kidagakash, I was sick the moment I walked into Atlantis. It's not your Gods punishing me, it's mine. I spent so long trying to find this place, to…witness it, that I failed to realize just how precarious my situation was. And now your entire race has to suffer."

"We are not _suffering_, we are _thriving_, and we are doing so _because of you_. Your Gods surely must realize that!" She turned to him, her hand reaching to touch his face again. "Milo, if your Gods are as forgiving as you have said many times before…surely they must know how important you are to my people. How important you are to _me_."

He clutched at the blanket over his body, shaking his head. "That's the thing about deities. They don't always have a plan we can see." He gave a small smile, savoring the feeling of her touch. He had missed it when he was isolating himself from her world. Her touch always calmed his mind and eased his weary spirit. "Your Gods are keeping me alive, but why? I should have died years ago."

"Years ago?" Her question took him off guard. "Milo, you have been in pain all this time and did not say?"

Brown eyes looked to the side of the bed, ignoring her question. He _had _been in pain for the better part of six years, but it only started to grow worse in recent months. It had been tolerable before, now it was excruciating every time he talked or took a breath. He couldn't worry her, she had a job to do, and so did he. She would lead her people and he would teach. That was their dynamic. "It is no worse than your father, Kida. He had been dying the whole time, but the crystal was keeping him alive – in a tolerable state so he could do what needed to be done. Atlantis _needs _a ruler. It doesn't matter who it is."

Her aqua eyes grew wide, her torso turning sharply to look at him. "I will go to the surface, it has been decided."

Honey colored eyes also widened at her sudden revelation. His hand reached out to touch her knee weakly, but he didn't speak for some time. "_Who _has decided this? Surely it wasn't just you. That would be foolish; this world needs its leader."

"The council decided last night that someone must make a trip to the surface world and find a doctor for you."

"I'm _part of the council_. They can't make that decision without my consent." He shouted, his throat aching with the sudden outburst. His free hand rubbed gently at it, but he didn't speak for a long time.

"In your absence," She finally spoke after many minutes of prolonged silence. "As your wife, I am to make that decision for you. Despite how you may feel, while you are unwell, I am your standing replacement on the council."

"You may not come back, Kida. You need a guide – someone familiar with the outside world. You could be taken in by the authorities for being delusional. People up there won't understand what Atlantis is, or what I'm dying of. They'll think that you're crazy." His grip tightened on her knee, he could tell when she winced ever so slightly. He lightened up and moved his hand back to his side. "Kida, I can't lose you…_Atlantis _can't lose you."

"And what choice do I have, Milo? If you're dying, then what have I got to live for? You did not want children; we've no offspring to concern myself with. My people can survive just _fine _without me as they have in the past. You are _all _I have and you cannot expect me to sit here and watch you _die_! You would have done something if it were me!"

Her sudden outburst caused him to flinch. He hadn't expected her to yell. Her raspy voice sounded almost as tortured as his. She had been thinking about this for some time, it was evident in her decision. "Kida…" His grip was tight, but he didn't move his hand this time, even when she flinched away. "…please come back to me. I'll be waiting. I won't pass on until you return."

"Oh, you are so stubborn." Leaning down, she kissed his forehead and reached over for the journal beside his bed. "I will bring this with me so I can find my way home. You should not have cause for concern. My Gods will protect me."

"I hope so, Kida…I really do hope your Gods are as forgiving as you think." Meanwhile, his brain reeled for reasons why he hadn't died yet. And why wasn't the rest of her continent infected? He had prolonged exposure to all of them for well over ten years; they should have shown signs by now. Perhaps the crystal slowed down the process with him, because he had been ill upon entering the city…but for everyone else, it worked as a barrier to protect them? Why was he still alive? _All will be well, Milo Thatch. Do not be concerned. _Darkness; a voice and then darkness.


End file.
